


The Prodigal Daughter

by rain_sleet_snow



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam returns to the Clayr's Glacier with Lirael, and it's blindingly obvious - even to him - that not all is well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prodigal Daughter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NightsMistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/gifts).



> A fandomstocking fic. :)

            "So this is the Great Library of the Clayr," Sam said, suppressing a low whistle.

 

            Lirael merely nodded and pushed her hair off her face with her hand of flesh and blood; the golden one was tucked low against her side as if she thought it would attract less notice that way. Sam, who could (contrary to his sister's assertions) take a hint, had noticed that since they'd arrived at the Glacier, Lirael hadn't worn a single one of the librarian-red dresses or tabards Ellimere had had made for her, and that she had abandoned the fashionably practical coronet hairstyle Sabriel had taught her. These things seemed to go hand in hand with the sudden loss of the limited confidence Lirael had gained in her months of recuperation, at the House and at the palace in Belisaere. All of Sam's family had gone to great trouble to draw her out and make her feel as if they could offer her as much love and warmth as the moonstone-crowned sisterhood she had never felt a part of, and a few weeks ago Sam had thought that it would be possible for Lirael to return to her childhood home without feeling like a traitor and outsider.

 

            He was fairly sure he knew and understood her best. She didn't confide in him, but Sam thought she found him easier to be around than his father, who was quietly pleased to have a sister again, his mother, who felt inexpressible guilt that she hadn't found Lirael and spared her early anguish at her lack of the Sight and her necromancer's looks, or Ellimere, who was apt to crowd Lirael. Sabriel had started to teach Lirael the finer points of an Abhorsen's duties, and Touchstone liked to discuss the advanced Charter magic he had been taught as a boy and Lirael had learnt from ancient books with her, while Ellimere had been invaluable in ensuring Lirael's every material comfort, her rank, her clothes, her food, and a sensible maid Lirael's own age who wouldn't quail before Lirael's lost hand or take advantage of Lirael's shy, withdrawn ways. But if Lirael wanted to remember the Disreputable Dog, or Nick, or simply to sit quietly and study, she preferred Sam, and Sam had thought that she was relaxing and healing, and then they came to the Glacier.

 

            Lirael did not flinch. She was brave, Sam thought, as brave as he had ever been expected to be. She had met her contemporaries' eyes calmly, even dressed in Abhorsen's blue while they wore white gowns and awed expressions. She ate with Sam in the main refectory, though she had once told Sabriel that she disliked being around the people she envied so much. She had spoken to her overbearing aunt Kirrith, awkwardly but calmly, and even submitted to a hug - which surprised Sam, as he found that Lirael shied away from most touch. She would allow Sabriel to touch her if it were signalled in advance, and she had let Sam handle her stump and forearm extensively during the making of the golden hand. Sam had seen her with the palace hounds, stroking their soft ears and scratching that perfect spot on their necks, but that was the closest he'd seen her get to willingly touching another living being. The only exception was the embrace she had received from Sanar and Ryelle on her arrival, but Sam had heard her mention them and their role in her life in passing and thought that if any Clayr had understood the discomfort and isolation of Lirael's childhood, it was them. Their kindness had meant a great deal to Lirael.

 

            Still, despite Sanar and Ryelle's kindness, and Lirael's bravery, Lirael had withdrawn in on herself a little more with every hour they stayed - and it was worst here, in the Library. Sam followed Lirael's tour with half his brain, the rest occupied in noticing the way the librarians watched her and the sendings responded to her presence, the way her voice became flat and stilted. A part of him was still excited beyond imagining by the knowledge on offer here, generations, centuries worth of work on the Wallmakers that he could benefit from, but part of him was too worried about Lirael to focus. She was his aunt, his friend, and his first real companion in arms. He'd introduced her to the family, and he had vague suspicions that she was half in love with his best friend, which was his fault in a sense, since he'd introduced Lirael to Nick, as distinct from the Ancelstierran man she had had to save from himself.

 

            Lirael had brought him to a gallery of Wallmakers' artefacts, and raised the Charter lights. Sam let the door swing shut behind them, and turned back to Lirael.

 

            "It's all right not to be what everyone else was expecting," he said. "Look at me. I was a lousy Abhorsen-in-Waiting."

 

            Lirael stopped in the middle of a rather flat recitation of the other galleries that might interest him and blinked at him. Then she flushed and ducked her head, ebony hair falling to hide her face. When she lifted it again, she tucked her hair behind her ear not with the left, golden hand - which she had favoured before it was lost, and still used at home - but with her right. "I let them down. I was supposed to be a librarian."

 

            "And I was meant to be an Abhorsen," Sam said. "It didn't work out that way. Sometimes things don't."

 

            "I was a _good_ librarian."

 

            Sam ignored the incipient insult, though Lirael blushed when she realised what she'd said. "If half the stories Dog told me were true, you were a great Abhorsen, too. You just didn't know it."

 

            Lirael was silent for long enough that Sam took out his sketchbook and wandered down the gallery taking notes, but eventually, she spoke.

 

            "They stare."

 

            Sam mumbled, then removed his pencil from his mouth, the better to speak. "What?"

 

            "The others. They stare." A pause. "Attention is... everything I wanted to avoid, before."

 

            Not quite, Sam thought. You wanted someone to know how badly you were hurt, at first. But then later, he supposed, attention would risk the silent isolation she had grown accustomed to, and with the Dog, she didn't want for companionship. Attention and Clayr companions would also have made her un-Clayr-like skin, hair and features more noticeable, to her chagrin.

 

            "They don't stare because they think you're a freak, not a proper Clayr," he said eventually, and worried he was doing the wrong thing when Lirael winced. He ploughed on anyway. "They stare because you're a heroine and they're proud of you."

 

            Lirael chewed her lip and said nothing, and Sam plunged back into his notes.

 

            The next day Lirael came down to breakfast wearing a red dress with her hair in a perfect coronet, and although her lip was bitten bloody, she kept her head held high.


End file.
